


A Matter of Belief

by lionofsounis



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Book 6: Return of the Thief (Queen's Thief), Spoilers for Book 6: Return of the Thief (Queen's Thief), very tame but t for minor language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28125945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionofsounis/pseuds/lionofsounis
Summary: “Kamet, is this all a roundabout way of asking whether I love you?”"Perhaps.""We've been sharing a bed for months."***Kamet asks Costis about what happened when he returned to Attolia to warn the king and queen. Kamet is a bit stupid, and Costis is very stubborn.
Relationships: Kamet/Costis Ormentiedes
Comments: 19
Kudos: 56





	A Matter of Belief

**Author's Note:**

> Personally I believe Kamet is the sort of person who, having been married for 20 years, would still wake his husband up in the middle of the night to ask if he like-liked him.
> 
> Also I think it's a crime that Kamet didn't witness 'the muscles jumping in Costis's jaw' when Costis tried to commit treason for him a second time, but I console myself by imagining Irene told him all about it.

Costis was singing softly to himself as he polished his sword, oblivious to Kamet’s eyes boring into him from across the room.

He had been cheerful ever since they’d returned to Attolia, and Kamet couldn’t blame him. For the most part, Kamet felt the same – he just didn’t tend to show his emotions on his face. But it was a relief to know the empire had given up on its invasion. It was a relief to be back with the king and queen. It was a relief not to have to look over their shoulders for assassins quite so often. It was a relief to be using their real names again.

All in all, Kamet was happy. And yet, something the queen had said today had deeply unsettled him. He had every faith in the queen, of course, and every faith in Costis, but they were not infallible. Mostly, though, it was himself that he doubted.

“I spoke with the queen today,” he said finally.

Not catching the strain in Kamet’s voice, Costis didn’t even glance up. “You did?” he replied, impassively.

“So,” Kamet said. “She told me a story.”

At that, Costis twisted his neck round to frown in confusion. “The queen?” he asked.

“The queen,” Kamet confirmed.

This did nothing to abate Costis’s confusion, though he was not, it seemed, overly bothered by it, and though his hands slowed, they continued working at his sword as if of their own volition. “What about?”

Kamet took a deep breath to steel himself. “You,” he said carefully.

Costis’s hands stopped their work. His face morphed itself into a careful mask of non-emotion, much like the one he wore during roll call or mindless first-form sword drills. “Do I dare ask?”

“It was complimentary,” Kamet said, more casually than he felt. “I think.”

“I doubt it,” Costis snorted. “The queen has seen me embarrass myself disturbingly often.”

“So have I,” Kamet pointed out, and Costis shrugged in concession.

“Well?” he prompted after Kamet had been silent for a long moment. “What fault of mine, pray tell, did the queen inform you of?”

Kamet couldn’t help a smile. “Nothing new. Just the usual pigheaded stubbornness.”

Costis grimaced mockingly, pretending to be wounded. “I thought I was mulish?”

“Pigs, mules, what difference does it make?”

“It makes a good deal of difference if you want bacon, or a cart pulled.”

_Gods above and below,_ Kamet thought, _farming jokes._ Costis truly _was_ in a good mood.

As if to confirm Kamet’s thoughts, Costis began humming again and turned his eyes back to his sword.

“She told me what happened when you came back to Attolia the first time.”

That got Costis’s attention. He squinted at Kamet, suspicious. “You mean before the battle? When I--?”

“Left me in Roa to be killed by assassins? Yes, that time.”

Costis started violently. “What assassins? You told me nothing –"

Kamet held up his hands to silence him, then backtracked. As per usual, his need to be clever had misfired. One day he would get Costis’s straightforwardness through his thick head and stop putting his foot in his mouth, but it was not today, apparently. He sighed. “Metaphorically speaking,” he said, a little sheepishly.

Costis heaved a sigh of relief, then, indignantly, asked, “How is that a metaphor?”

“Well – hyperbole, then. There _could_ have been assassins.”

Costis scowled at him. “Don’t remind me.”

That reminded Kamet of what he had been trying to bring up in the first place. “She said she and the king had difficulty deciding what to do with you.”

“Not for the first time,” Costis said with another snort.

“She said they thought about asking you to stay here.”

Costis, already sitting still, somehow became even more motionless. He stared back at Kamet, neither of them blinking, as if daring him to continue. Kamet recognized the determined set of Costis’s jaw. _Pigheaded,_ he thought again.

“I know,” Costis said.

“She said they decided to send you back to me even though it was tactically unwise.” Costis said nothing, but continued staring. “She said –” Kamet found he had to clear his throat before he continued. “She said she argued that your heart would not be in your work.”

“She did,” was all Costis said. Kamet waited. “Is that all?”

“She also told me the king briefly thought I was dead, but I don’t think that’s relevant.”

Costis raised an eyebrow. Kamet spread his hands, an entreaty. “I would like to hear your translation of the tale,” he said, wondering why he had fallen into literary metaphors. Why couldn’t he just say what he meant?

Costis stared at him for another long moment. Then, carefully, almost silently, he sheathed his sword. “When I arrived,” he began, setting the sheath aside without looking at Kamet, “I told the king and queen my news. The king suggested I return to Roa to collect you. The queen pointed out you had served your purpose.” There was a significant pause. “I will spare you,” Costis said stiffly, but with a hint of self-deprecation, “my feelings on the matter –”

“Don’t.”

At the interruption, Costis looked up sharply, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“Don’t spare me your feelings,” Kamet said, and wondered who had put those words in his mouth. He certainly hadn’t.

Costis was staring again, but dumbfounded this time. Then he seemed to get ahold of himself. He straightened in his seat. “Well, I was angry,” he said honestly, “I am loyal to My Queen, and to My King. You know this. But I am also loyal to you, and I believe the king and queen have reason to be as well. I know she was only speaking practically, and I know there was more at stake than you or me, but I was angry all the same. It was unfair that they should dismiss you so – that they should leave you to whatever fate came to you – after you have done so much for them.”

“I haven’t –” Kamet began, but Costis waved the comment aside, looking like he was still angry about the queen’s comment.

“However, I also understood that we were in front of the war councils of three nations. It would hardly be appropriate to send me back to Roa just because I wanted to go. Especially since so many others had to stay when they’d have rather been elsewhere.” Costis paused, a faraway look on his face. “My Queen is kind, though. At least, she always has been to me. As you already know, she also very tactfully pointed out that, were I to stay, my heart would not be in my work.” At this, Costis screwed his face up into an expression that Kamet could not read at all. “She was right, of course.”

“She was?” Kamet thought he sounded like an idiot.

Costis did as well. He rolled his eyes and said, “idiot.”

Kamet looked down at his lap, at a loss. After a moment of awkward silence, he stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders. In reality, it was an excuse to step closer to Costis.

“The queen also told me the king thought I was dead.”

“You mentioned that,” Costis said dryly.

“She said my ma—Nahuseresh was very cruel and made him very angry.” Costis only nodded. He hadn’t been there, but he was familiar both with the king’s anger and his compassion. “She said she had to talk him out of bolting into the enemy camp and skinning Nahuseresh alive.”

“I know the king is very fond of you,” Costis put in carefully, “but I believe he would have wanted to do that whether you were dead or not.”

This time Kamet rolled his eyes. “The queen _also_ said that she convinced the king not to, as it was very likely that I was _not,_ in fact, dead, as Nahuseresh had made no mention of you.” With Costis looking momentarily puzzled, Kamet continued, taking another step towards him. “She said that he couldn’t possibly have killed me without also killing you, and that Nahuseresh could hardly have avoided gloating over killing _two_ of the king’s favourites.”

Costis nodded as if to say this seemed logical. When Kamet didn’t continue, he arched an eyebrow. “Do you have something to ask me, Kamet?”

Gods, he was going to make him say it. Costis, Kamet thought, had been spending too much time with the king and queen. He had learned how to trick people into admitting their own feelings. “Was she right?” he managed. It was less obvious than ‘would you really die for me, vain, obnoxious, rude, and an idiot?’

“Well, you aren’t dead,” was Costis’s answer.

_Gods,_ Kamet thought again. Generally speaking, Costis was not a fool, but, gods bless him, there were moments when he was remarkably dense. One moment he was tricking Kamet into admitting things he’d rather not admit, and the next he was saying ‘well, you aren’t dead’.

“No, you idiot,” Kamet said, but his voice sounded too fond. “I mean, was she right that Nahuseresh would have had to kill you first?” It was far too much like an admission, but still better than ‘would you die for me, an idiot?’

The stubborn set of Costis’s jaw came back. “Kamet,” he said, his voice as gentle as Kamet had ever heard it, “she knew my heart would not be in my work because it was – it is – with you, even while I stood before her and told her I was loyal to her.” He paused and heaved a sigh, but not a sad one. “Before I arrived My King grew weary of his barons and threatened to give up the throne forever. Of course, they had no interest in fighting off the Mede themselves and went scurrying off to ask the queen to please put him in his place. Instead, she threatened to leave with him.”

Kamet was gaping. He had not heard this bit of court intrigue. Undoubtedly, few people wished to speak of it.

“The queen knew I would throw myself, and her, and the king, and all of Attolia to the dogs for your sake, just as she would do for the king. She knew that even had she ordered it, I would not have stayed. Which is why, though it was not, perhaps, the most politically savvy thing she could have done, she sent me back to you.”

Kamet was still staring when Costis finished. Costis saw, and rather than softening (if it were possible for him to become softer, at this point) or pulling Kamet into his arms as Kamet wished he would, he looked exasperated and asked, “Kamet, is this all a roundabout way of asking whether I love you?”

_Bloody straightforward, blundering, honest farmboy bluntness,_ Kamet thought. He could have just said he loved him, rather than making Kamet admit it first. Kamet huffed, then averted his eyes. “Perhaps,” he equivocated.

“We’ve been sharing a bed for months,” Costis said, rolling his eyes. He was right, and that was partly why Kamet felt so foolish. They’d shared a home, a bed, more kisses than Kamet could count, and sweeter words than Kamet had ever expected to say or receive. And yet there was always a part of him that wondered when Costis was going to realize he wasn’t worth the attention.

“We’ve been sharing a sheep pen,” Kamet corrected, and continued, even while cursing himself for his own semantics, “because there were dozens of assassins and spies trying to find and torture and kill us, and because there wasn’t anywhere else for us to go.” He was giving Costis an out. A way to excuse himself; ‘no, you’re right, Kamet, I would have preferred to let you be dragged back to your emperor and die alone in agony, but my king had rather I didn’t so I stayed with you out of pity.’ Kamet didn’t _really_ expect Costis to say so, of course, he was too kind, but he also couldn’t believe that Costis _had_ wanted to stay with him, especially considering the sheep pen. It came of being a slave for too long, he realized, in the twinkling of a second; he had spent too long being replaceable, unwanted. His master had told him otherwise on good days, and his own vanity had prevented him from admitting it to himself, but deep down, he’d known the truth.

And it had damaged him for life. Now he was sitting in front of this _very_ handsome soldier who had nearly died for him a dozen times over and was telling him he didn’t regret it and would do it again, who had had even more opportunities to abandon him, who could have refused to forgive him for hundreds of petty insults, who had said his heart was with Kamet even over his own king and queen, who had been willing to spend weeks sleeping with him in a sheep pen, who was the most honest person Kamet had ever known, and Kamet couldn’t believe him.

“That was only for a few weeks!” Costis burst out, snapping Kamet’s thoughts back to the present.

“On the floor, in the dirt,” Kamet added, and when Costis looked about to protest again, he added, “and the sheep shit.”

Costis rolled his eyes once more for good measure but he subsided. Then he took each of Kamet’s hands in his own (Kamet had drifted close enough now), and said, very seriously, “Kamet, I swear to my god that there is no one I would rather sleep in sheep shit with than you.”

In spite of himself, a smile tugged at Kamet’s lips. “I am truly flattered,” he said wryly, but whatever smart remark he intended to follow it died on its way to his tongue. Instead, he tilted forward to press his lips to Costis’s.

The kiss was long and slow and lingering – everything that the frenzy and panic of the last months had not been. And as Costis’s mouth moved against his, Kamet found himself releasing a tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying. He had thought, in the past, in moments of quiet in his little cubicle in Nahuseresh’s quarters, or even in the peaceful nights while journeying with Costis, or the lonely ones after they’d returned to Attolia and Eugenides had sent Costis home to his family, even the odd night in Roa – he had _thought_ he was at peace. A few times only, and only for a few fleeting moments, but he had truly thought so.

But this was something different. Perhaps it helped that they weren’t looking over their shoulders for assassins, and that the Mede had been soundly beaten, and that the king and queen and Kamet and Costis themselves had come out relatively unscathed, but somehow Kamet thought that wasn’t it. He could tell something broken inside him had been put back together, but he could not have articulated what that something was.

At least, not until Costis pulled him even closer, and he tumbled (not very gracefully) into his lap, and Costis’s hands found his hips, enormous and strong and burning through the fabric of his tunic, and his own hands tangled into Costis’s hair, and Costis leaned back just enough to say, “I love you. I know you want me to say it first,” and it struck Kamet like a thunderbolt.

“I did want you to say it first,” Kamet admitted. He knew it was silly – Costis had said it before – but that wasn’t really foremost in his mind anymore, and Kamet twined his legs around Costis’s middle, his hands moving in and out of the Attolian’s sandy hair while Costis’s hands pressed against his back.

“I don’t mind,” Costis replied, his lips ghosting over Kamet’s again.

“I know,” Kamet said. “That’s why I love you too.”

“I know.” There was a pause. “I do worry though –”

Kamet frowned. “About what?”

“Well,” Costis shifted, but not uncomfortably. “Whether you believe me.”

Kamet stared at him.

Costis smiled, a little ruefully, and the soft rhythm of his breath on Kamet’s cheek sent a shiver up his spine. “You’ve been a slave too long,” he said, and his voice was so gentle it made Kamet’s breath catch in his throat. “I don’t think you know how to let people care about you. But –” he added, in a lighter tone, “you are free to love who you wish and believe what you wish.”

“I believe you,” Kamet said, and Costis looked at him archly. That was the thunderbolt that had struck Kamet so forcibly earlier. _Gods above,_ he had thought, _I believe him._ “I do,” he insisted. He reached up to move a curl off of Costis’s forehead, then planted a kiss where it had been. “How could I not,” he said, almost annoyed at the fondness in his own voice, “how could I not, my Costis, when you have never lied to me?”

For some reason, Costis grinned, and for some reason, Kamet grinned back.

“I never will,” Costis told him.

Kamet believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> oh my gods he believed him


End file.
